The Glass Blade

by Ryan Wieser

  She draped her unharmed arm against his chest, her fingers turning around his neck, and she kissed him deeply. He kissed her back with relief, wrapping a hand around her back and pulling her near. She could fall so easily into him again. She kissed him because she needed to, and because she knew she should never do it again.

  Finally, she pulled away. “I’m sorry, Kohl,” she whispered, stepping back from him.

  He took her hand in his, creating a bridge of wounded flesh and metal between them. “It was just a fight. We both said things we didn’t mean.”

  She smiled up at him, knowing that once again, he had failed to understand her.

  * * * *

  Jessop recognized the two young Hunters from training time in the Hollow. Daro Mesa had short dark hair and a small, strong body. He was an expert knife fighter and Jessop had fought him once before, when she had first begun training with Kohl. Teck Fay was tall, slender, and silent. He wore a robe, keeping his face constantly half-concealed, his mouth always shut. He had ink etched into his face, forming two sinewy trees, one under each eye. Jessop knew less about him, but had seen him fight once before. He was of the Oren, a north Azguli tribe, known for their mysticism. She had encountered one Oren before in her time, and it had not ended well.

  They stood on the other side of Kohl, forming a line that ended with her, in front of the Assembly Council. Shrouded in darkness, she held Trax’s stare, and he hers. The silence was dull to her, the darkness had no intended effect, and she had grown weary of the pomp and presumptiveness of the Council. Yet, she had to show respect, and if that meant standing, in darkness and silence, for unknown periods of time, then so be it.

  She wondered briefly if the others knew who was standing beside them. She and Kohl had entered together, the other two already present. Had they known it was her and Kohl who joined them? Could they see her, as she saw them, secretly keen-sighted in darkness? She had questions… many of them. They came to her day by day, and winning over the trust of the Council ensured she was one step closer to receiving answers.

  “You will go beyond the Grey.”

  The voice belonged to Hanson, which was unsurprising to Jessop. He had orchestrated the entire plan. She was simply thankful he had decided to speak finally.

  “News has come to us that Okton Radon has been taken over by a band of raiders. You will go and relieve the weigh station with those who stand beside you, with Master DeHawn leading the way.”

  She held a tight smile as Trax dipped his head, acknowledging his role in the plan. They all knew of Okton Radon. The weigh station was one of thousands, a place for travelers, Hunters, and tradesmen to check in as they entered the city, to make their presence known to local government. Jessop also knew that many places with weigh stations, like Okton Radon, had no protection or security from raiders. Towns such as those relied on one or two sentries and traveler compliance. If any real danger ever presented itself, they called for their overarching authority, the Infinity Hunters, to help.

  “You will leave at first light and meet Master DeHawn in the south docking bay. Pack light, provisions will be provided.”

  As Hanson finished speaking, the room began to brighten. Jessop closed her eyes to avoid the visual adjustment. Blinking, she was startled to find Trax standing right before her.

  “Master DeHawn,” she smiled, touching her chest softly and catching her breath.

  “I’ve been briefed on recent… changes,” he spoke, his eyes locked on her forearm.

  “Yes, I will be travelling as an extra translator,” she spoke, her voice tight through pursed lips.

  He smiled at her, his glowing eyes looking her over. “You’ll make waves—everyone will speak of the most dangerous translator in the world, the fluent Kuroi speaker who fights with Falco Bane’s blade.”

  Her smile disappeared at his sentiment. “I wouldn’t want that…”

  “Then perhaps you should leave the recognizable blade here?” Kohl’s voice startled her as greatly as Trax had. He took the place by her side, standing somewhat between her and Trax.

  “Never.” She shook her head at him.

  “Why’s that?”

  She shrugged. “This blade cut down my enemies and cleared a path for a new life for me. I carry it with me as a daily reminder,” she explained.

  “Of your strength?”

  “No, of Falco Bane’s.”

  At her answer, Kohl narrowed his gaze at her. He didn’t understand what she had meant.

  “Yes, a token of your achievement—overcoming the greatest of fighters, Bane, to be here,” Trax explained for her, looking from her to Kohl. Kohl nodded, trying to understand.

  Kohl took her hand in his, staring at her with his usual thoughtfulness. “He’s not the greatest anything, he’s the worst.” He squeezed her hand tightly and then let go, offering her a supportive smile before turning and leaving her with Trax.

  Trax looked her over slowly, nodding. “We won’t let anything happen to him, Oray-Ha.”

  She held his gaze, but remained silent. She had said too much already, had shared too much. She brought her sore arm to her chest and cradled it softly. She could do nothing more to prepare for their trip aside from wait.

  “I’ll see you tomorrow, Oray-Ha,” Trax spoke, offering a small smile as he rested his hand on her shoulder.

  “Tomorrow, Hasen-Ha.”

  * * * *

  That night, Jessop couldn’t sleep. She watched Kohl as he slumbered sweetly in her bed. He had come to her chambers late in the night, hoping for nothing more than to sleep beside her. He had fallen into his slumber with ease, and she sat beside him, tormented. His blond hair was loose, fanning out behind his large head. Even in the darkened room, she could make out his scars, painted across his broad and muscular chest, his stomach and arms.

  She knew that somewhere, trapped in the confines of his pretty head, was the memory of the day he got the scars. She had seen glimpses of that day through Falco Bane, and it had been torturous to witness. She was quite certain that if she found Kohl’s memories of the torture, Hanson Knell wouldn’t live to see another red sky. She did not understand the practice… In her mind, what the Council did to their Hunters was nothing short of a betrayal. She thought of Falco Bane, and of his mentor, Hydo Jesuin. And then she crawled out of bed.

  * * * *

  She had entered the minds of the two sentries standing watch with swiftness and ease, convincing them they had never seen her trespass. That was all it had taken to stand before the unconscious body of the great Lord Hydo. She had kept all of the lights out, enjoying the darkness of the room, languishing in the blackened space where no red sky entered.

  He looked older to her, in his incapacitated state. His eyelids fluttered, as though his internal self was fighting to escape the prison made of his own body. His hands seemed restful though, his wearied fingers interlocked over his chest, loosely holding onto his Hunter’s blade. His skin was like Hanson’s, weather-beaten, worn and leathery, but she could still make out the scars. He too had suffered their ritual once, long ago.

  She readjusted her footing, inching slightly closer to the old Lord. He had been the one to welcome her into the Blade, had instructed her to assist in the hunt for Falco, and then had disappeared, first from the Blade, and then from reality. He, the original strongest, the longest standing Lord to have ever ruled, was trapped in his own mind. Slowly, silently, Jessop raised her hand. Her fingertips hovered above his face, in the darkness, for the longest moment. Finally, she rested her hand against his large cheek. The skin felt plump and waxy to her, like worn rubber. Without thinking, she manipulated his flesh with her fingertips, and found his face to be quite malleable.

  She exhaled deeply, and closed her eyes. The supposed greatest of Lords lay vulnerable in her capable hands. She brought her other hand up and cupped the other side of his face, and the sensa
tion of holding him, when he was in such a state, overcame her. She leaned over his large body and rested her forehead against his, slowly tilting his head back and forth, fighting the urge to enter his mind and see some of what Hanson and the other Council members had seen. Somewhere, trapped inside his thick skull, was everything anyone could ever want to know about the Blade of Light. She thought of Falco and how everyone feared his abilities, how all who had seen this unnatural sleep their Lord lay in were wrought with fear.

  She stroked his temples softly and resisted entering his mind. She did not need to see anything more. It was of too great a risk this night. She simply needed to see him, and know that he would be here, just so, upon her return. She saw Kohl’s scars and his unwavering obedience, and she thought of Falco, and how his greatest scars were the ones no one could see. She thought of Jeco, and his place in Daharia. She thought of Hanson and of Hydo, She took a deep breath and smiled, whispering, “I’m going to fix everything.”

  * * * *

  “Where’d you go?” Kohl asked, his voice muffled by the gray pillow. Jessop pulled her tunic loose in the dark, quietly undressing.

  She stepped out of her boots and pushed them silently against the wall. “Nowhere. Go back to sleep.”

  But he sat up instead, his messy hair standing on end. She kneeled on the bed and crawled past him, taking her place on his side.

  “Have you ever fought him?”

  Jessop blinked in the dull darkness, confused by Kohl’s odd question. “Fought who?”

  “Him,” he answered, lying back down beside her.

  “Yes. I have fought Falco,” she nodded, feeling him turn to face her.

  “You’re the best fighter I’ve ever seen, at least since him. Hanson thinks so too,” he whispered, settling in beside her.

  “I know.” Her words were a whisper of honesty, not arrogance, in Kohl’s presence; her abilities were not currently a point of pride.

  “You really think he’ll come after me on this hunt?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “I’m… not afraid of him,” he whispered, his voice disappearing into a yawn.

  “I know,” Jessop nodded.

  He was already snoring, once again passed out peacefully beside her. She turned over and studied his young face. She touched his cheek and marveled at how different his flesh felt under her fingertips. She traced the outline of the scar on his cheek, whispering quietly to him. “But you should be.”

  CHAPTER 11

  The red sky seemed unusually still, almost dull, and the air thick. She tried hard to recall the last time she had breathed air outside of the Blade. The white-uniformed technicians were packing the Soar-Craft. As usual, all of them had ignored her upon her arrival. She had shown up early enough to walk out to the supernatural entrance of the docking zone, to look out onto the Red City. Were one approaching from the sky, they would see nothing but reflective glass, but her view from inside was quite different. The mystical barrier that concealed the entrance into the Blade showed a red city through what looked like thick, warped lenses. The few Soar-Craft that had passed, the Levi-Hubs, the handful of travelers—they looked blurry and abstract. But it was better than nothing. There was not much activity in the morning hours of the red city. Azguli were not early risers.

  “Hei, Oray-Ha,” the familiar voice greeted her. She listened to his footsteps, and soon he stood beside her.

  “Good morning to you, too, Trax,” she greeted him, keeping her eyes forward.

  They stood in silence, each taking in the morning view, and the mission ahead of them. She felt at ease with the Kuroi Councilman, as she always had with his people before him. She felt as though she didn’t need to hide quite the same way she typically did.

  “We should be ready to leave soon,” he spoke, breaking the still silence between them.

  She nodded. Soon, they would be travelling back beyond the Grey, taking Kohl to a desert land of darkened sky and stars. She closed her eyes and saw his face, and felt afraid. It was a sickening feeling, one she had not truly experienced in years. She couldn’t quite explain it, the tension in her stomach. It was as close to fear as she could remember the sensation feeling like—she truly didn’t want him to get hurt.

  “We will keep him safe, Oray-Ha,” Trax repeated, knowing her mind.

  She turned to him. “He is in more danger than the rest of us.”

  At her words, Trax laughed. A broad smile cracked his face. His glowing yellow eyes squinted down at her as his bellowing chuckle echoed around them before disappearing down the dark docking zone.

  “What?” she asked, defensively crossing her arms over her chest.

  He fought his chortle, touching his chest as his smile faded. “You don’t truly think that anyone here is in more danger than you, do you?”

  Jessop turned away from him, looking down the dark bay, before suddenly whipping around to face Trax. “Relative to all of our abilities,” she whispered, leaning closer into the tall, dark Hunter. “Relative to all of our secrets, I suppose I would say we are all in pretty equal positions.”

  * * * *

  He softly tugged on her hand as he spoke. “You left early this morning.”

  She studied his hazel eyes, watching the way he watched her. She saw how he had begun to study her face for signs of deceit—he was losing his trust in her. She couldn’t blame him—she would feel the same if she were losing key parts of her memory of their time together. She couldn’t maintain the relationship with him that she had begun, but she couldn’t push him away either. He needed to be near her at all times, for his own protection… and hers.

  She squeezed his hand tightly with hers. “Nerves.”

  “Jessop… stop worrying about me,” he smiled, his eyes softening.

  She shook her head at him, silent. She couldn’t simply stop. While she couldn’t make sense of her feelings most days, she knew she felt responsible for him. Maybe more than that… She couldn’t help but feel a deep desire to keep him alive for more reasons than just self-preservation and necessity. She knew she seemed a selfish woman, in every sense of the word, but she had to act for the greater good of them all.

  She closed her eyes and saw the gray gaze she had long ago grown so accustomed to. If she seemed to be selfish then so be it—she had a mission. As she had told Hydo, she would fix everything.

  “Please, just remain near me during this trip,” she pleaded, looking up to him. He looked as though he was about to protest, but something in her stare convinced him otherwise.

  “It’s not like I have much of a choice,” he smiled, waving his device-rigged arm about. She smiled at him, lowering his hand gently.

  He leaned down to kiss her, but in the corner of her eye she caught Trax’s stare—and she pulled away. Kohl said nothing though, his attention caught by the sudden appearance of Daro Mesa and Teck Fay, the two other Hunters accompanying them on the trip to Okton Radon. Jessop had little interest in Daro Mesa. He was a good fighter but he possessed no intrigue. Teck Fay was a different story. She leaned away from Kohl to get a better view of the tall Oren tribesman with the blue inked trees on his face.

  She caught his stare, from under the dark hood of his cape, and it took everything she had to not enter his mind. The Oren people were a dangerous sort, comprised of mystics and mages. They could cast images and curse trespassers; they traveled in shadows and spoke in many rare and ancient languages. Everyone knew of them but few knew them personally, as their tribe kept to themselves. Jessop had never heard of one becoming a Hunter, but the opportunity to be near one of the Oren was a rare one indeed. She had only ever encountered one other desert mage, and he had left her badly scarred, but that was from a long time ago—before the refinement of her abilities.

  She did not fear Teck, or his people. She was quite interested in seeing the extent of his abilities. As if on cue, she felt a small
prodding against her mind. The sensation was as though her head were too full of thought, and she realized it was the Oren. She held his gaze as he attempted to enter her mind—and she closed it off to him. She was too interested in learning more about him to bother feigning ineptitude and granting him access to her private thoughts. She knew he would also say nothing; he wouldn’t admit an attempt to invade her mind, not in front of Kohl. She felt him, pushing at her, straining against her fortified walls of Sentio—and she was almost disappointed when he surrendered.

  She saw the perplexed look in his dark eyes; she watched the way his blue inked trees moved as he squinted at her. And she smiled. He was the first Oren she had encountered personally since the one who had marked her back, and she was glad to know where the tribe of mystics fell in the hierarchy of abilities after all this time. Like countless others, just below her.

  “What is it?” Kohl’s voice pulled her gaze back to him. He was watching her smile, a confused look on his face.

  “Nothing.” She shook her head, and kissed him on the cheek.

  * * * *

  Trax waited at the bottom of the metal ramp, herding them onto the Soar-Craft impatiently, distracted by a techie ranting at him about landing procedures. Jessop ducked her head as she entered the giant steel ship—one of the largest she had ever traveled in. The Soar-Craft was nothing like Hanson Knell’s death trap, or any other small personal vehicle. It was an enormous iron ovoid, lined with standard canvassed passenger seats, air vents, and various switches and panel boards. Everywhere she looked, colorful loose wires stuck precariously out of the steel grates. She walked across the metal flooring and took a seat near the front of the ship, quickly buckling herself in. She did not like flying.

  As she glanced up, she was amused to see the Oren hunter taking the seat opposite her, staring at her pensively. She smiled at him confidently, causing him to lean over from his seat towards her. “We need to talk, Lady Hunter.”